Chapter 1164: The Last Supper and the Conversation
Let it be. No matter if it all ends in scattered notes, first take care of the matter at hand.
As Shang Xingzhou said, what lay before everyone’s eyes was Snow Old City.
The closer they drew to Snow Old City, the shorter the distance between Chen Changsheng and that small carriage became. Now it was only a dozen li away, and he could see it clearly.
There was still a small hill, with a withered tree on its slope. Several cold crows perched on the tree, their eyes lacking red, meaning they had not eaten human flesh.
That small carriage was parked beneath the tree. The little Daoist was squatting on the ground, digging at something.
Chen Changsheng suddenly said, “I think White Crane lied to you.”
Xu Yourong wrapped her arms around herself, draped in a thin coat. She turned her head back and asked, “Lied to me about what?”
Chen Changsheng hesitated for a moment, then said, “I wasn’t that good-looking when I was little.”
Xu Yourong smiled faintly and said, “Jealous?”
Chen Changsheng looked at the distant small hill and softly hummed in acknowledgment.
Xu Yourong said, “What you looked like as a child—only your senior brother and that one should remember. When you get the chance, just ask.”
He never expected the chance would come so soon.
That evening, Shang Xingzhou sent word for Chen Changsheng to come over.
The master and disciple ate a few papayas roasted by the little Daoist himself, which served as their last supper, and then began their conversation.
At the start of this talk, they did not speak of Snow Old City, so close at hand, nor of the urgent matters in the capital, nor did they reminisce about life in the old temple of Xining Town.
The style of this conversation was very much like Shang Xingzhou’s attitude toward the world, with a hint of Chen Changsheng’s sword path—beneath its directness lay a profound disdain.
“The White Emperor once said that no one on this continent would trust me, and that’s where I fall short of you.”
Shang Xingzhou said, “But that was when you were still young, with infinite possibilities, while I am already old.”
There seemed to be no logical connection between the two sentences.
Chen Changsheng listened quietly.
“Death, the greatest fear, looms ahead. It’s hard for anyone to transcend it.”
Shang Xingzhou continued, “In this regard, I am far inferior to you. I am anxious, so in recent years, I have been too hasty in some matters.”
Chen Changsheng confirmed that he understood correctly.
So beneath the disdain, there was something else hidden.
This counted as an explanation, even an apology—words Shang Xingzhou could never say directly.
That’s how old people were.
Chen Changsheng suddenly felt a pang of sadness and didn’t want to continue this topic.
“I think something’s off about this.”
Shang Xingzhou wasn’t worried about the rebellion in the capital at all, and Chen Changsheng wasn’t particularly concerned either. What truly needed attention was still Snow Old City.
The demon race had fallen too quickly.
It wasn’t just the master and disciple who thought so; the entire court and public felt the same.
In the initial plan, humanity had prepared to fight for three years or longer, yet now it was resolved in less than half a year.
This made Chen Changsheng uneasy.
“Black Robe might want to do something, but she will never succeed. People who are used to mysticism don’t understand what true strategy is. In the end, they will only die in the rat holes of mysticism. Three hundred years ago, if Wang Zhice hadn’t gotten in the way, your uncle and I would have already killed her. This person is not worth mentioning.”
Shang Xingzhou made a very harsh assessment of the demon race’s famed military strategist. It wasn’t just because he had the qualifications to critique her in terms of strategy and mysticism, but also because they had fought and subtly echoed each other for hundreds of years, knowing each other very well.
He took out a porcelain bottle and handed it to Chen Changsheng, saying, “This medicine isn’t as effective as Cinnabar Pill, but the ingredients are simpler. The main component is the ancestral fire from the depths of White Emperor City.”
Chen Changsheng was momentarily stunned. He opened the bottle and sniffed it, then said uncertainly, “The gold-threaded edge from Changchun Temple?”
Shang Xingzhou said, “Correct.”
Chen Changsheng asked in confusion, “I did consider using this ingredient to control the potency back then, but…”
Shang Xingzhou said, “I taught you medicine. Do you think you can surpass me?”
Chen Changsheng was left speechless, but then quickly brightened, thinking that no wonder the army’s casualties had decreased significantly this time.
Shang Xingzhou said, “Stop refining Cinnabar Pill from now on. You’re not a woman—why bleed every month?”
Chen Changsheng was again at a loss for words, his mouth slightly open, not knowing what to say.
Seeing him like this, Shang Xingzhou grew inexplicably irritated and said, “Nothing else. Get out.”
Still as stern as ever, sometimes very cold.
Chen Changsheng suddenly remembered how, when he was little in the old temple of Xining Town, his master’s emotions toward him always swung between coldness and sternness, just like this conversation.
Sternness was much better than coldness.
Shang Xingzhou had been cold to the young Chen Changsheng because he feared he might grow fond of the little Daoist he had raised himself.
Because he knew he was using Chen Changsheng.
Later, his intense loathing for Chen Changsheng was really loathing for the part of himself connected to Chen Changsheng.
These things, both master and disciple knew. They had spoken of them back in the National Academy and at the Mausoleum of Books. There was no need to say them again now.
Shang Xingzhou should be happy now, because he no longer had to worry about growing fond of the little Daoist he had raised.
Looking at the little Daoist outside the carriage, whose face was blackened by smoke, Chen Changsheng thought, you are happy too.
Before leaving, he couldn’t help but ask that question.
“Master, was I not good-looking when I was little?”
Shang Xingzhou thought for a moment and said, “Not bad.”
…
…
“These two students of yours treat you pretty well.”
After Chen Changsheng left the small hill, Old Master Tang came back around from behind the hill.
In the days since arriving at the front, Old Master Tang hadn’t stayed with the Tang family but had been with Shang Xingzhou every day.
Shang Xingzhou said, “You know how those two little thieves pressured me ten years ago.”
Old Master Tang sighed with emotion, “Still better than my own grandson. That little beast nearly tore down our family ancestral hall.”
Shang Xingzhou glanced at him and said, “What are you really trying to say?”
Old Master Tang looked at him seriously and asked, “Are you alright?”
Shang Xingzhou was silent for a moment, then said, “Not really.”
Old Master Tang gazed at Snow Old City under the starlight and said, “At this point, you must wait a little longer.”
Shang Xingzhou said, “I haven’t seen the ones I personally sent off yet. Of course, I have to see it myself.”
…
…
The human army did not retreat south. They continued preparing for the final assault. The Western and Eastern Armies fanned out to clear the outposts and military camps outside the city. But the news of the rebellion could not be completely concealed. It spread quickly, and the atmosphere in the camp grew increasingly tense.
No one knew if the Demon Lord inside Snow Old City had learned of humanity’s internal strife. He organized several wolf cavalry counterattacks, all of which were firmly repelled by the human army. Strangely, even at this point, the upper echelons of the demon race still showed no intention of abandoning Snow Old City. No one knew what they were thinking.
One morning at five o’clock, Chen Changsheng opened his eyes. He spent five breaths calming his mind, then turned over and got up. Under An Hua’s service, he put on his shoes and clothes, washed his face, and rinsed his mouth. Then he walked out of the tent, circled the hill where the central command tent was located a few times, and stood staring blankly at Snow Old City through the thin mist.
After reversing his fate at the Mausoleum of Books, his life remained simple, plain, and healthy, but it was no longer as strictly disciplined and almost ascetic as it had been for the previous dozen years.
In fact, it had been a long time since he had gotten up this early.
At six o’clock, Xu Yourong woke up, and they had breakfast together.
After finishing two bowls of yellow millet porridge, Xu Yourong decided to sleep a little more. Chen Changsheng felt idle and decided to take another stroll.
The morning sun gradually rose, and the thin mist slowly dissipated. A faint vibration came from his wrist, and then Luo Luo’s voice emerged from it.
Chen Changsheng took another look at Snow Old City, now growing clearer, and headed to the small hill more than ten li away.
He stood in front of the carriage and said, “The time has come.”
Shang Xingzhou was quiet for a moment, then said, “Enter the city.”